Ad Nauseam

RETIREMENT WOES



William had never been a cruel person before the squirrel moved onto his roof.

Two weeks into summer vacation, fourteen long days after he had bid his students farewell for the last time, William sat at the kitchen table in his boxers and white t-shirt under a tattered blue robe. A bowl of oatmeal sat untouched on the table next to the unread newspaper spread out before him.

Staring at the clock on the wall, he watched the minutes tick past and wondered what he was supposed to do with the rest of his life.

“William, will you please mow that lawn today?” His wife, Kristi, walked through the kitchen and into the dining room, a cloud of soft, floral perfume left floating in her wake. Smartly dressed in a peach blazer and skirt with her gray hair perfectly coiffed atop her head in a twist, she was ready for her day as a personal banker, the job she’d held since their kids had all started school.

“Hmmph.” William grunted, glancing at his wife, then returning his eyes to the clock.

“Oh William, really. Are you going to mope around here forever? How are you going to handle retirement if you can’t even find something to do for the summer? You’re used to having summers off.” Kristi pulled out a chair and perched lightly on the edge, grabbing his hand in her own and frowning. “Have you been taking those pills the doctor gave you?”

“I’m not depressed.” William also frowned, but it felt diluted in comparison to his wife’s stern countenance. Everything about her personality had always been more forceful, more vibrant. He had no delusions about who ran their household. “I’m just bored.”

“You know what you need, William?” Kristi’s favorite pastime had always been telling William what he needed. “You need a hobby. Rachel’s husband builds model cars and Ralph across the street does all that woodworking.”

“Those are old man hobbies.”

“We aren’t getting any younger, dear.” She patted his hand affectionately, but he pulled his own back.

“I’m not that old.” The whiny tone in his voice made him feel like a petulant child.

“Really, William? So what is this? Sitting around in your shorts all day feeling sorry for yourself? I swear, the least you can do is go out and get rid of that damned squirrel.”

“Squirrel?”

“Yeah. The squirrel that’s on the roof making Devon bark. Can’t you hear him? Or are you going deaf too?” Kristi stood and retrieved her purse, her back stiff and her chin raised in anger. With her hand on the doorknob she turned slightly, her eyes narrowed as she spoke. “You need to do something with yourself, William. I will not spend the next thirty years watching you give up and rot in that chair.”

William watched the door slam behind her. Standing to take a shower, he paused when he heard Devon begin to bay in the backyard.

He does sound upset about something, he thought, opting to forego the shower and just get dressed so he could investigate.

On his way to the door, William tripped over something, nearly falling on his face. He heard things go flying, and to his dismay, realized he had knocked over Kristi’s massive sewing kit, spilling about a hundred spools of thread.

Even when she’s not here she is making my life hell! Why does one woman need that much thread, anyways? Gathering together the spools, Devon’s baying continued, now louder and longer.

Devon wagged his tail in greeting and William rubbed the hound dog’s graying muzzle.

“Just you and me now, old boy. Two old hounds with nothing to do.” William went to the garage and got the dog’s food bowl, filling it from a bag on the shelf. There was a time when he just left the bowl out, feeding Devon whenever it ran empty, but the vet said he was getting fat. The weight wasn’t good for his heart.

William’s doctor had said the same thing about him.

Leaving Devon to his meal, William went back into the garage to get the lawnmower. It was still clean and shiny, a self-propelled model that his three grown children had pitched in for an early Father’s Day gift. The old mower had worked just fine, but they worried he was getting too old to push the heavy thing around the yard.

I’m not old, he thought, never been sick a day in my life. I’m still useful.

William was halfway through mowing before Devon began to bark again, sitting on his haunches under the eave that jutted above the back porch. Usually the dog was timid around the lawnmower, but he refused to budge when William came near, forcing him to kill the mower. Devon’s attention remained on the roof, his bark sounding vicious and the hair standing up on his back.

“What is it, pal? What are you barking at?” William shaded his eyes with one hand and looked up. Devon barked again, and he gently placed his other hand on the dog’s head to quiet him. After a moment of mostly silence, filled only with the annoying buzz of cicadas in the trees, he heard it. The high-pitched, distant chittering of a squirrel. A fuzzy red plume of tail appeared, zigzagging across the roof.

“Hey squirrel!” William didn’t actually expect the rodent to respond and he laughed in surprise when it peeked over the edge, fixing him with beady black eyes. Devon let loose with a whiny growl as the critter balanced on the gutter, his front half hanging over the edge. The squirrel screeched his indignation as his tiny paws balled up into fists that shook with rage. William nearly doubled over with laughter at the sight.

“Okay little guy. I understand how you feel, but how about you move on so my wife doesn’t make me get rid of you?” William felt an unexpected affection for the irate trespasser, an admiration for his bravery and stubbornness when facing a larger opponent. Still, he wasn’t about to listen to Kristi bitch about the squirrel all summer. Devon woofed in agreement.

Grabbing the industrial pooper scooper he had bought at the farm-and-fleet store last fall, William set about the unpleasant task of cleaning up Devon’s mounds of poo. The dog usually sat by the fence and watched with a suitably apologetic look on his old face, but today he didn’t bother. Remaining seated, the hound continued to growl low in his throat, his eyes never leaving the roof where the squirrel balanced on the gutter, still shaking his tiny fists and squawking.

Sighing, William shook his head on his way to the garage.

“Okay, little guy. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

William pulled the ladder from where it hung, neatly, on wall pegs. He knew there was rodent poison somewhere. After a few minutes of looking and cursing, he found the half-full box of pellets and shook some into his hand. Dropping the poison into his pocket, he picked the ladder up and carried it over to the porch. The squirrel had given up on chastising Devon and was now leaping from the roof to a nearby tree branch and back, high above the dog’s head. Taking exception to the obvious taunting, Devon growled at the critter.

“That’s enough, squirrel. Quit picking on my dog.”

He set the ladder against the house, checking it for stability before climbing slowly up the rungs.

At the top, William reached into his pocket and grabbed the poison, arranging a loose pile of pellets in the gutter. The squirrel hopped over to the tree branch and screeched once, watching as William picked leaves off the roof and shoved the poison into a heap.

Poor little guy. William felt bad about killing the squirrel. He had always found the rodents kind of cute and fun to watch as they hopped across the lawn, their tails twitching and flowing like a gymnast’s ribbon. But Kristi wanted him dead, and he made a point to ensure his wife always got what she wanted.

“It’s you or me, bud. Come and get it.”

The rusty-colored visitor watched from his tree branch as William took down the ladder and put it away.

When William emerged, he saw the empty branch still swaying, the loud- mouthed rodent back on the roof and approaching the pile of pellets suspiciously. Still feeling a bit guilty, he patted the dog on the head and opened the back door.

“Come on, Devon. We can still get a nap in on the couch before Kristi gets home.”

***

“William? Please tell me you didn’t have that filthy dog in this house.” Kristi stood in the doorway, her finger pointing at the living room sofa.

“Hmmm?” William reclined in his EZ Chair, the television remote resting on his outstretched thigh.

“There’s dog hair all over the couch. Did you have Devon on the couch? You know how I feel about animals in the house.”

“No, dear. Of course not.”

“Then how did all that nasty hair get on there?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it fell off my clothes.”

Kristi crossed her arms and glared at William.

“Did you get rid of that squirrel?”

“Yep. Poisoned him. He should probably be dead by tomorrow.” William hated it when Kristi prattled at him during one of his shows. He also hated that she never let Devon come in the house.

That dog’s better company than you most days, anyways, he thought, tuning her out. Their marriage had been passionate in the early years, and William figured this was just the way it went with relationships. A comfortable contempt just settles into the vacancy left when love fades.

“Are you even listening to me?” Kristi had her hands on her hips, a posture that never failed to irritate William.

“What?” He flicked the power button reluctantly, stopping Peter Griffin mid-sentence.

“I said, make sure you find the corpse so it’s not stinking up the yard. The last thing we need is for Devon to eat that diseased little creature and puke it up on the couch when he’s not in the house.”

“Okay. I’ll look for it tomorrow morning.”

“And take one of your pills,” she added, perching on the arm of the recliner to give him a light hug and kiss before going to bed.

“I’m not depressed.”

***

“Come on, boy! Get the frisbee.” William heaved the plastic disk over Devon’s head but the dog merely watched it fly. Yawning, he stretched out in the grass and stared at William expectantly, as if to say, Cool trick, now go get it.

“Lazy dog.” William laughed and retrieved the Frisbee. He climbed the steps onto the back porch to grab a beer, when something small bounced off his head and rolled across the wood.

“What the hell?” Leaning over to pick it up, he realized it was a pellet of rat poison. Two more pellets hit him and he looked up, just in time for a third to hit his nose. The squirrel was once again perched on the edge of the gutter, pelting him with the poison. The little beast then threw the rest over the edge and screeched at him in indignation.

“Well, I’ll be damned. You little bastard.” William gathered up the remaining pellets and tossed them in the trash can, mindful of Devon eating it. He was halfway amused, but also a bit angry. “That’s it. You’ve got this coming.”

It took a while to find it, but he discovered his son’s old pellet gun tucked away in a dusty box in the garage. William grabbed the ladder once again on his way out. This time the squirrel held his ground on the roof, squawking at the intrusion as William climbed the rungs and braced his elbows on the shingles. He hadn’t fired a gun of any kind in many years and the first pellet went high and wide.

The rodent fled at the sound of the gun, as the next pellet hit it square in the shoulder. It jumped high into the air, squealing and chittering. Expecting the creature to run away, William was surprised when it turned back to him and charged, its large teeth bared.

Hurrying to retreat, William’s foot slipped on the ladder and his chin hit the top rung painfully, causing him to bite his tongue in the process. He scrambled down the ladder and out into the middle of the yard, where Devon waited, yapping.

“That’s right, Devon. You tell him, boy.” William wiped his chin and his hand came away wet with blood. Glancing up at the roof, he couldn’t see the squirrel anymore.

Good. Maybe the little bastard will stay gone now.

***

“What happened to your face?” Kristi moved his hands away as he tried to prevent her from tracing the bandage on his chin.

“I slipped on the ladder and hit my chin. It’s not a big deal.”

“Why in God’s name were you on the ladder?”

“I was shooting that squirrel. The lil’ bugger wouldn’t eat the poison, so I shot him with Max’s pellet gun.” William tried grinning, but it made his chin sting.

“Maybe we should take you in to see the doctor.” Kristi gave him a look of concern.

“I told you I’m fine.” He hated that concerned look more than anything. Even when she was harping on him, something he was used to after decades of marriage, she always had that half-worried look on her face. She acted like he was crazy sometimes, or a child that needed to be reminded of the most basic tasks. William had buried his own mother five years ago, and didn’t need a substitute.

“Did you take your pill?”

“Goddamnit, Kristi! I am not depressed. There’s nothing wrong with me. I got hurt trying to get rid of a squirrel. That’s all. The same damned squirrel you’ve been riding my ass to kill.” William was surprised at the venom in his response. He hadn’t known he was angry until he started yelling.

Kristi stared at him, blinking back tears. Unable to deal with his wife at the moment, he turned and stalked out of the room, hearing the first of her sobs as he walked away.

***

The next morning, William awoke to Devon’s barking outside and the phone ringing on the nightstand. He turned to discover Kristi’s side of the bed was empty.

Must still be miffed from last night. Throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, he sat up and reached for the telephone on the nightstand.

“Hello?”

“Oh thank God, Dad! It took you so long to answer, I was just about to hang up and call the cops.”

“What are you talking about, Max?”

“I’ve called you three times this morning, Dad.”

“You have? I guess I was just sleeping soundly. What’s the big emergency? I mean, it’s not like I’m not happy to hear from you son, but what’s going on?” William hadn’t talked to his son in close to a month, but he knew that his oldest was busy with his job and family. He missed his kids and grandchildren though, and was disappointed to hear from Kristi that they weren’t going to be able to get together over the summer.

“We need to talk. You might want to sit down.”

William’s pulse picked up as a rush of adrenaline spurred his heart on, though he kept his voice level. “I am sitting. What is it?”

“I hate to be the one to do this, but if I don’t, I don’t think anyone else ever will. I never agreed with the way Mom chose to handle this, but I’m tired of her calling me at night crying. You need to be told.”

“Whoa. Slow down, Max.” William felt a throb develop in his right temple and was unable to follow where his son’s conversation was going. “What are you talking about and what is this about your Mom?”

“She’s worried sick about you, Dad.” Max paused. “We all are. You’ve been acting strange and you won’t take your medication like the doctor says —”

“Now hold on a damned second. I don’t know what your Mom has been telling you, but I’m fine. I don’t need any pills. I’m not depressed.” William felt himself getting angry. Kristi had no business calling and getting the kids all riled up over nothing.

“Those pills aren’t for depression, Dad. They’re for dementia.”

The sun still shone brightly in his eyes, and Devon was still barking his ass off outside, but William didn’t notice any of it. His mind froze, trying to grasp Max’s words.

“What?”

“You heard me, Dad. You’re losing it. And Mom doesn’t know how much longer she can deal with this by herself.”

“I don’t know what the fu-, what the hell you are talking about.” William paused and rubbed his temple, fighting a losing battle against his temper. “But there is nothing wrong with my mind.”

“Really? What do you remember from yesterday, Dad?”

“I did some yard work, and I had a fight with your Mom.” William snapped, suddenly very tired and wanting to slam the phone down to silence the accusations.

“That’s all? That’s really all you did? What did you have for lunch? For supper?”

“I don —”

“That’s right. You don’t know. You’ve been losing time for months now. It was Mom’s idea to tell you that the pills were for depression, but I always thought you should be told. Especially after losing your job like that.”

“I retired.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Dad! You didn’t retire. You were forced to resign. You can’t tell me you’ve completely forgotten or suppressed or whatever what you did. You whipped your dick out in the middle of class and pissed in the trashcan. You’re just lucky that no one pressed charges for indecent exposure.”

William dropped to his knees, unaware he had even stood up. His skin felt cold but he was hot inside, his guts churning. He felt like his whole world had just been turned upside down.

Flashes of half memories began to assault him, but blessedly flitted away again. Emotions rolled within him; anger, shame, and confusion battled against one another until his head felt like someone was hammering it.

Something rolled across the roof and Devon howled, snapping William out of his torment. The phone was still in his hand, the sound of his son’s voice far away. Not listening to what Max said, he put the phone to his ear and spoke in an even voice that sounded alien to him.

“I love you, Max, but shut up. I have to go.” He put the phone back on the cradle and rose to his feet, his legs numb and shaky. There was a scrambling sound from the roof and he looked up, as if he could somehow see through the upper floors and the rafters to the shingles above.

The squirrel.

William stumbled into the master bathroom and retrieved a can of Aquanet hairspray from the counter. He shook it and sprayed a fine mist, checking to make sure the nozzle wasn’t clogged. The smell made him smile, for a second he remembered making out with Kristi long ago in his Buick, the lovely scent of her perfume and sweat mingling with her hairspray.

In the junk drawer he found a lighter and flicked it, getting a long flame on the second try. They had both quit smoking when the grandkids were born, but Kristi loved candles and always had a lighter around. Not giving any thought to the fact he still wore nothing but his ratty bathrobe over his boxers and customary white t-shirt, William walked outside.

The ladder was still up against the side of the house and he paused, scratching his head. He thought he had put it away. He never left his stuff out. Something wet bumped his hand and he actually screamed, pulling it back in. Devon let out a concerned woof and cowered, fearful of being struck. The sight made William’s heart ache.

“Oh Jesus, boy. You really scared me.” He scratched the dog behind an ear and Devon kicked one back leg in response, blissfully trying to scratch an imaginary itch. William stared up at the roof, seeing only the occasional fluff of the squirrel’s tail as it strutted around.

His mind spun with bits of his conversation with Max as well as images of things he had forgotten he’d done, like screaming at his class, a fight with Kristi. Had he hit her? Could I ever hit her? He shut the thoughts out, his focus on nothing more than that taunting red tail and the smug little rodent it was attached to. His anxiety and fear formed into a ball of white-hot rage, causing bile and acid to churn and eat at his stomach lining.

“You little son of a bitch, I’m getting you once and for all.” William gripped the can of hairspray in one hand and climbed the ladder using his free one. When he reached the top, he swung one butt cheek onto the roof, his free hand grabbing the shingles for support. He felt cold inside, an icy resolution stealing his nerves. “Come on, you bastard. This ends today.”

The squirrel held his ground, locked in a stare-down with William that lasted several moments. Neither made a sound as William reached into his pocket to retrieve the lighter. He waited, but the squirrel simply stared, not coming close enough for him to get it. He could see a wound on its shoulder where he had shot it with the pellet gun, but it had scabbed over and the squirrel didn’t appear any the worse for wear.

Devon let out a howl, startling William, and he almost slid off the roof. He glanced at the dog and heard an awful screeching, turning in time to see his tormentor come barreling across the shingles towards him. He didn’t have time to aim, simply pressed the button on the aerosol can and flicked the lighter.

The flame was impressive, shooting out several feet and igniting the rodent. He realized too late what was going to happen and leaned backwards to avoid the squealing, flaming demon that hurtled towards him like a bullet. Losing his footing and pin-wheeling his arms, he fell from the roof. Then his head hit the ground and the world went black.

***

William really wanted to stay asleep, but something warm and wet kept smacking him in the face. A high-pitched whining intruded on his slumber and the wet thing moved to the side of his head. This caused a flash of pain that made his eyes pop open, only to close back to slits as the afternoon sunlight stabbed his brain. Then Devon’s jowly face mercifully blocked out the sun, and a renewed round of licking ensued.

“Devon. Stop.” William chuckled weakly and tried to push the dog away. Why am I on the ground? Did I faint? Was it a stroke? He was confused, and when he tried to sit up, a thunderous pain ripped through his skull. Then he remembered.

The squirrel.

He slowly did a careful inventory of injuries. His head still thumped and his ribs on the right side were a mass of radiating agony, but other than that he felt fine. Sitting up slowly, he saw a decent- sized rock covered in blood where he’d been laying.

Must’ve hit my head on the bastard. Lucky I didn’t split my fool skull open. Probing the wound on the side of his skull with shaking fingers, he decided his original assessment may have been premature. His head didn’t feel exactly intact anymore.

That left the mystery of his ribs, but he quickly surmised what had happened when he saw a ceramic lawn ornament shattered on the grass. He’d landed on the thing, pieces of white glass protruded from the side of his chest, and he marveled at how little alarm he really felt, considering he didn’t know how deep they went or if he had punctured a lung. Something moving on his right caught his attention and he gaped at what lay next to him on the lawn.

“You tough little shit!” William said with wonder and more than a small measure of respect as he watched the squirrel struggle to get upright. The thing was nearly hairless, its skin scorched and blistered. Apparently blinded by the fire, his beady black eyes were now a milky color. Alternating between squawks and mewls, it still appeared as though it were trying to come at him. Dragging limp back legs and a charred tail, it slowly and what had to have been painfully made its way across the grass, teeth bared. Devon backed up and growled.

“It’s okay, boy.” William said, grabbing the bloody rock that had left a dent in his skull. It was heavy and sharp in his hand as he lifted it over his head to smash the squirrel, but he froze in position. His head thumped and swam, his thoughts a jumble of confusion surrounded by a red mist of agony. He couldn’t do it. He knew it would even be a kindness at this point, to put the creature out of its obvious misery, but he found himself admiring its spirit. Crippled and dying it still came, dedicated to its cause.

William dropped the rock as bitter tears ran down his face. He thought about how he must appear from the outside. Thought about what he was on the inside.

I’m useless and old. And I’m losing my mind. I can’t even vanquish a squirrel. I’m just an old man with an old dog, weeping in my yard. William wished more than anything that he had died in the fall. He was an embarrassment to his family. A burden on his children and wife.

Guilt gave way to anger in a flash. It was Kristi who had caused all of this, Kristi who forced him to hurt the squirrel.

It’s her constant nagging that’s driven me crazy. The stress of putting up with her harping all those years had caused a nervous breakdown of some sort. I’m not demented, just plain fed-up! She has even turned my son against me. William thought about the way Max had spoken to him. His harsh, accusatory tone. He thought about his job. Never gone a single day due to illness, and they pushed him out the second something started to go wrong with his mind. But not Kristi, her mind was just fine.

Something tugged at the hem of his robe and he looked down, watching as the squirrel bit the terry cloth.

The stubborn little bastard made it. He felt an overwhelming sympathy for the beast roll through his chest, constricting his lungs so he couldn’t draw a breath. The anger flared anew, almost crippling in its intensity. In that moment he knew what he should do. His head was fuzzy again and he was having trouble keeping his thoughts straight as memories and emotions warred with darker images he didn’t want to see. He knew what he could do to make it all better for him and the squirrel.

Rising to a painful crouch, William cupped his hands around the squirrel, wincing only slightly when the rodent sunk its large, yellow teeth into the pad of flesh at the base of the thumb. He cradled it to his body and slowly climbed the porch steps, each step making his head and ribs sing out a duet of agony. At the back door he stopped and turned towards Devon.

“You coming, old dog?”

The hound looked at his owner, then at the half-dead creature still cradled in his hands. He whined and sat down.

“Suit yourself. I’m going in.”

Devon whined again in indecision, then bolted up the steps and slunk through the door before it closed.

***

“Oh Damnit, William.” Kristi walked across the lawn to where the ladder still leaned against the back of the house for the second day in a row. “I guess I will have to put it away myself. And what’s this?”

The shattered remains of her favorite lawn ornament lay in the grass and she felt her irritation ramp up another notch, until she noticed the pool of sticky blood. A crimson- smeared rock lay close by, as well.

Oh no! William.

She had feared this day would come. For months Kristi had left for work every morning wondering if it was safe to leave William alone. She had fought with her oldest son for months about whether they should tell him what was going on, but William had some pride and she couldn’t bring herself to hurt him. Now she may be too late.

Her high heels caught on the steps and she fell forward in her haste to get into the house, tearing her panty hose and skinning one knee. Climbing back to her feet, she flung open the door, calling out to her husband in a panic-stricken voice.

“William!” The lights were off and all the blinds closed, casting the interior of the kitchen in gloomy shadow. Kristi smelled the dogshit a second before she stepped in it and slid, her hand grabbing the counter to keep from falling.

“Ouch!” Something jabbed her palm. A sewing needle had pierced the flesh of her palm and she could see her sewing kit open on the counter. A small cry escaped her as she pulled it out with her teeth. The cry was echoed by a whine from across the room.

“Devon?”

The dog whined again but didn’t approach. Kristi reached for the light switch, freezing when William’s voice broke the silence.

“Don’t. The light hurts his eyes.” His voice sounded strange, groggy.

“William? Are you okay? What’s wrong with Devon?” She reached for the switch again.

“I said don’t!”

Kristi recoiled as if struck. She could see William’s silhouette in the doorway but little else. Something cold and wet touched her hand and she screamed, realizing belatedly that it was just Devon. He sat in front of her, whining and growling low in his throat, though William ignored him.

“I always wondered why you had so many spools of goddamned thread in your sewing kit. Who the hell needs all that thread?”

Kristi flicked the light switch, bathing the kitchen in a glow from the chandelier. She winced when she saw her husband, his hair matted with gore and the side of his blue robe dark with blood.

“Oh William. What happened to you?” She took one step toward him, then stopped when his lip turned up in a sneer, his eyes wild and darting.

“You wanted that goddamned squirrel gone.”

“William, you’re hurt. Let me call someone. Your head wound looks really bad.”

“Great idea. Why don’t you call that doctor that you’re probably f*cking. Or better yet, call my son so you two can talk about how crazy I am.”

As he took slow steps towards her, his robe fell open and Kristi saw something on his side wiggle. Her mouth opened for a scream that wouldn’t come when she saw the atrocity sticking out from his side. Mangled and burned, its eyes scorched blind and milky, a squirrel jutted from his ribs. The thing squealed at her and she felt her bladder let loose, warm urine running down her legs. Thick, dark stitches held the creature to William’s skin, haphazard sutures still weeping blood. The thing struggled to be free, its teeth clicking shut as it cried out, straining the thread and tearing its own flesh in the process.

“Oh Jesus, William! What have you done?”

“Oh dear. Did you just piss yourself? Who’s old now? It’s okay, Kristi.” He took another step towards her and she realized he held something dark and sharp in his other hand. The poker from the fireplace. “I almost killed him because of you. You animal-hating bitch. But’s it’s okay. I fixed him. My body is still strong. It will heal him.”

William raised the poker over his head, his eyes bright with insanity as the dog growled and his wife shrieked.

“Shhhhhh, it’s okay, babe. I know there’s something wrong with my head. But it’s going to be all right. I mean, you have enough brains for both of us. And we have plenty of thread . . . “